Nature, the black-wit reveller, to her requiem, Autumn
She clads no dirgeful ebony, but dons veils resplendent
She performs a dance most seductive and vivacious
Summer retires in praise and awe …
at the gyrations and twirls the wind performs upon her

Carmine, amber, Titian; vermillion, russet, citron—flushed
Fall to the ground, flagging, defeated, and wasted
The carousing carries on until every last sheaf alights
Lies forgotten, fading foliage, pitiful detritus
Evidence of a party long-since concluded

Nature stands upon the wreckage, naked and unabashed
Demanding of death, her beloved, bearded Winter
Way past last call, ice and snow, snow and ice …
to fill a forlorn and empty tumbler

They await out the night, under a blanket of ivory
Silent, bereft, and wondering
Wrapped in a crepuscular, cold embrace
Somehow still inviting

With sunrise, arrives the most gracious of invites
Scrolled upon a crocus petal; Spring calls, come to high tea
Dressed in daffodil and verdant green
Budding arbour blossoms flowing from your hair
There’ll be be-fuddled fledglings to sing an accompaniment
I’ll expect you no later than April

***